


Kiss, Kiss, Kiss

by evlytheevilqueen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, and possible cookie cravings evoked by this fic, and those kisses are actually the furthest thing from romantic, but don't you worry children, there are Scott and Stiles kisses in here, this is Sterek all the way, warnings for pack feelings, which is why I didn't tag Scott/Stiles as a relationship here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evlytheevilqueen/pseuds/evlytheevilqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of the five times Stiles kissed his best friend (mostly due to unfortunate circumstances and Erica being a not-so-closeted voyeur) and the one time he actually got to kiss his favorite scowly alpha over a bowl of pecan nut cookies during a round of Monopoly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss, Kiss, Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shiruy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiruy/gifts).



> I only vaguely remember how this idea even came up, but yeah, it's apparently a thing that happened. I think it started out with wondering about that time Scott and Stiles apparently made out. I also remember a lot of laughter.  
> This story has been laying around on my laptop for over a week because I kept reading over it and tweaking around and I couldn't decide if this is anywhere near good enough to have anyone aside from myself see it. This is the best version of it I could deliver, so I decided to just get it out there :)  
> Oh, and just in case anyone's wondering, this takes place in a very vague post-s2 verse where I can merrily ignore that a good deal of characters I love very dearly either died or went away. It's maybe one or two years down the road from the s2 finale.

**I.**

 

It all began at a sleepover at Scott's when they were thirteen.

 

"Scooott?" Stiles could hear the rustling of cloth where Scott shifted in his little blanket cocoon on his bed.

 

"Huh?" He couldn't see much more than Scott's foot peeking out of his Spider-Man sheets from where he was lying on the floor in his very own heap of blankets and pillows but Stiles didn't need to see Scott blinking blearily to know that he was still mostly asleep – his tone was telling enough.

 

"Do you ever think about making out with me?" He could hear Scott sputter and fall off the bed in a tangle of cloth and awkwardly flailing limbs. His breathing sounded kind of wheezing and Stiles contemplated for a second if he should get Scott's inhaler for him. Before he could try and find it – or scramble for the light switch – in the utter darkness enveloping them, Scott's disastrous bedhead appeared over the edge of the bed. Stiles' eyes had accustomed themselves just enough to the lack of light to make out the halo of hair sticking up every which way.

 

"Dude! What?!"

 

Stiles shrugged, worming his way out of his own blankets to sit up and lean his forearms on the mattress so he could face his best friend. "Just asking!"

 

"Stiles, that's not the kind of thing you just randomly ask your best friend," Scott said, his ridiculously long, badly cut hair falling even more in his face as he shook his head in a sort of fond disbelief Stiles knew was reserved for himself.

 

"Why not? I was wondering. I've heard it a billion times in movies, or read it in books. That you're supposed to want to kiss your best friend, or at least wonder about what kissing your best friend would be like, that is."

 

It said a lot about their friendship that Scott didn't even ask why exactly Stiles was wondering about that on 4 am on a Saturday night after they'd spent all evening murdering zombies on Scott's new PlayStation and stuffing themselves with pizza. If anyone knew that his brain needed absolutely no prompting to go down the most curious roads, it was Scott. And his dad, probably.

 

"I don't know. Can't say I ever thought about it," Scott said, looking like he was actually contemplating the idea and browsing his memory for anything that might count. That's what Stiles loved the most about Scott: He might laugh at his all-over-the-place train of thought sometimes, but never with malice and he always seriously pondered Stiles' random, mostly highly hypothetical, questions. Scott shook his head again, his hair flying about wildly, before his neck jerked mid-motion to stare at Stiles instead, mouth open.

 

"Wait, dude, do you? I mean, not just now. Because you know I love you like a brother but I don't think I could-"

 

Stiles felt his own mouth drop open and he quickly held up his hands to underline with physical action how much he rejected that accusation. Mere disbelieving sputtering wasn't enough to convey his horror at the idea. "Stop, stop, stop! Stop right there! I am not in love with you, Scott McCall! Your my brother, too, but if I'd ever harbored any feelings for you they'd have died that day we found the dead mouse in your hamper." He shuddered at the memory. The poor animal had obviously seen its last day quite a long time before they'd found it there and the very thought that the smell hadn't made it past that of Scott's laundry was gag-worthy enough to never, ever make Stiles desire any kind of future that would result in him living with Scott.

 

"Hey, I thought we had an agreement not to bring that up any more!" Scott pouted at him, crossed arms and big, sad puppy-dog eyes and all, and – as always – Stiles deflated immediately.

 

"Okay, okay, fine. But you get what I'm trying to say." He waved his hand about in a gesture that probably didn't actually mean anything, but Scott still nodded, expression all serious.

 

For a moment, they sat in silence. Surprisingly, it was Scott who broke it first.

 

"So, why did you bring it up?" Trust Scott to know that Stiles usually didn't voice one of the millions of thoughts running through his mind at all times if he didn't have anything to follow it up with.

 

"Dunno." Stiles tried to shrug it off, but he was biting his lips and wringing his hands and that would have probably given him away even to people that hadn't known him intimately for almost a decade. "Do you think we should? Just to see if there's anything to it? And I mean, I bet it would be good practice."

 

"For when your five-year-plan works and you finally get to kiss Lydia?" Scott smirked at him but Stiles couldn't find it in him to even fake a huff. His five-year-plan was awesome and one day, when he'd be married to the most beautiful red-headed ice queen to ever walk the earth, Scott would really appreciate its genius instead of trying to suppress laughter every time Stiles mentioned it as if all was going according to plan so far. Just because they hadn't even arrived at stage 1 "Get her to notice me" didn't mean it was doomed to fail. Stiles just knew that he and Lydia Martin would make one hell of an unbeatable team.

 

"Yes! So... should we do it?" 

 

Scott tipped his head to the side like a dog as he thought it over again. Stiles was tempted to hum the Jeopardy music when finally, Scott nodded to himself and awkwardly stumbled his way around the foot of the bed to where Stiles was still leaning against it. He wiggled his way under the blankets, somehow stealing more than half of them in the process, and shot Stiles a shameless grin. "How are we going about this?"

 

"No idea," Stiles said with a shrug. He crawled back under what blankets Scott had left him and bumped him with his shoulder. "You're supposed to be the expert."

 

Scott groaned. "You know as well as I do that I didn't actually kiss Millicent Broker on that party. We just spent the whole seven minutes awkwardly pressed into opposite sides of the closet, staring at the floor."

 

"Well, then, guess we'll just have to wing it." Stiles grinned – even though he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace than a reassuring gesture at this point – and decided to blow all caution to the wind and just lean in and press his lips to Scott's and get it over with. 

 

To make it short, it felt weird. Movies and books had somehow given him higher expectations of a kiss. Not that he'd expected fireworks and floating hearts around his head when kissing his best friend – he was definitely not in love with Scott, after all. But he'd still expected a little more than the meaningless press of slightly softer skin. It felt a bit like a kiss on the cheek, just more close-up. In a boost of clinical, detached curiosity, Stiles opened his mouth and let the very tip of his tongue graze Scott's bottom lip and Scott pliantly opened his mouth without a word of protest.

 

Against Stiles' hopes, actual tongue contact just made the whole thing weirder. At least they'd brushed their teeth not too long ago but it still just felt like two very wet muscles moving uncoordinatedly against each other. Wrinkling his nose, Stiles pulled away, only to see Scott do the same. The grimace on his face was more confused than disgusted and Stiles couldn't suppress the bout of laughter rising up in his throat.

 

"God, Scott, you should have seen your face!"

 

Scott joined in his laughing fit and once they'd calmed down, that was that. Giggling, they pressed one last closed-mouthed kiss to each other's lips to see if it still felt as weird – it did – before crawling back under their respective blanket piles, wordlessly swearing to themselves to never try that again. It hadn't been completely awful but it was definitely not something Stiles wanted to do again with Scott any time soon. Judging by Scott's much less confused and mostly amused expression when he'd climbed back into his bed he was thinking the same.

 

 

 

**II.**

 

For almost half a blissful decade, that was the last time Stiles really thought about kissing his best friend. They'd both ticked it off as something they'd tried that hadn't worked, case closed. It wasn't that they were ashamed that they'd ever done it, but there never was any reason to bring it up, so they didn't.

 

And then the whole werewolf shebang had started and their circle of friends had suddenly expanded beyond the two of them and one cold, clear December morning when Derek's pack had decorated the freshly renovated Hale house, Erica had decided that it would be a hilarious idea to hang up mistletoe in the doorway leading to the living room. It was probably not a coincidence that shortly after, every armchair and couch in the room had suddenly moved just enough to get a good angle at said doorway. Stiles wouldn't have been surprised to wander into Derek's living room to find her lounging in her favorite worn-out armchair with a huge bowl of popcorn, eyes fixed on the space under the branch expectantly.

 

As it was, Erica didn't have any popcorn the day Scott and Stiles forgot about that goddamn piece of plant and walked into the room together, but she was lounging in that very same armchair and her smirk was just as smug as Stiles had pictured it. She wolf-whistled at them as they both froze and looked up at the exact same moment, which of course got them everyone's attention. Because, naturally enough, they'd managed to get themselves caught under a branch of mistletoe on pack meeting night of all things. Stiles refused to look around the room to verify if he'd got everyone's reactions right in his masochistic imagination – Isaac and Allison were probably staring wide-eyed, Boyd expressionless and deliberately disinterested, Lydia calculating, Jackson and Peter leering and Derek was probably incapable of any facial expression that wasn't some variation of scowling, anyway. 

 

Scott and Stiles exchanged a quick look and Stiles could literally see the exact second Scott agreed with his plan to not give Erica the satisfaction of complaining or chickening out and Stiles might not be some superhuman wolf-man with all their magical assets or whatever but that didn't make the almost-telepathy thing Scott and him had had going on since elementary school any less cool. They could all be Wolverines for all he cared, he was going to be their Professor Xavier. Or maybe their Jean Grey, sans love triangle. 

 

Either way, in an odd parallel to the first time they'd done this, Stiles just shrugged and leaned in, Scott meeting him part of the way this time. The angle of their heads was definitely less awkward now and while it still felt incredibly weird to kiss his best friend, especially with all their friends having front seats to the show, Stiles had to give time and Allison points for improving Scott's kissing technique considerably. Their lips moved much more naturally against each other and their laughter was much less horrified and just plain amused at everyone gaping at them when they pulled apart.

 

"So that was surprisingly hot," Erica said, popping a peanut into her mouth with a downright dirty grin and not leaving them out of her sight.

 

"Um.. thanks?" Scott said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and looking for all the world like he'd love nothing more than to race over to Allison and ignore the rest of them for the remainder of the evening. Or maybe emigrate to Greenland. 

 

"Told you so," Jackson drawled with a grin just as dirty and much more disturbing than Erica's, leaning back in his seat and holding out his empty hand in Lydia's direction. "You owe me, Lyds."

 

Lydia glared at him and, crossing her arms over her chest, turned an analyzing eye on Scott and Stiles still standing in the doorway. "You two are not actually having sex with each other, are you?"

 

That had both Scott and Stiles sputtering and shaking their heads wildly, almost falling over each other in their haste to deny Lydia's accusation. 

 

"I don't owe you anything, then," Lydia said in her most saccharine tone, turning to Jackson with a haughty smile. Pretty much everyone but Boyd looked like they wanted to question Scott and Stiles some more on that particular kiss when Derek claimed their attention by clearing his throat in the most obnoxious way imaginable and diverted everyone by asking what movie they should watch, which had all of them jumping into a predictable, heated argument in no time. 

 

Stiles shot Derek a grateful grin that went unsurprisingly unreturned. He told himself that he wasn't feeling disappointed in the least and joined the argument on Boyd's side to distract himself – not only did the man have a good point preferring Batman over Spider-Man, but he'd also been the only one apart from Derek that hadn't looked like he wanted to interrogate him and Scott on whether they were having some sort of sordid secret affair or not. So much indifference had to be rewarded.

 

 

 

**III.**

 

"I'm still convinced this is just a very, very cruel, elaborate joke," Stiles said as he reluctantly slid into the seat Danny had just vacated, grimacing at the line of people that had obviously tried to still get a spot with one of the Lacrosse team's adonises. Too bad they'd be stuck with Stiles now instead.

 

"Do you really think Finstock is capable of pulling something like that off?" Danny asked with a raised eyebrow, kindly handing over an untouched tube of lip balm. "Here, you'll need it soon enough."

 

"Thanks, man." Stiles sighed, getting more comfortable in his seat and trying to procrastinate just a little longer before he'd have to lock lips with the handful of strangers that would actually stay in line once they'd finally notice the shift change. "Why do I even have to do this? Greenberg got out of it. Besides, don't we have enough Greek gods on this goddamn team to already have gained more than enough for that stupid field trip nobody wants to go on, anyway?"

 

"Greenberg came down with mono last week," Danny said with an amused huff. "And as if Finstock would let the opportunity for extra money pass him by. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have plenty to do." He reassuringly patted Stiles' shoulder and Stiles decided to generously overlook the slightly condescending tone in order to not break into a nervous sweat at the thought of the humiliation facing an empty hallway for half an hour would mean. Not that he had much dignity to lose to begin with, but he'd like to keep the few scraps he'd clung to until now if nobody minded.

 

Danny turned and left him to his misery and Stiles had no reason to keep ignoring his 'team duty' anymore, so he turned with a heavy sigh and gave the girl in front of him a weak smile. She looked like she was contemplating leaving the line even though she was first, clearly disappointed she hadn't been able to snatch a kiss from Danny, and the others behind her didn't look much more enthusiastic. Stiles was about to resign himself to sinking down to new levels of humiliation and embarrassment even he hadn't managed to reach just yet when suddenly Scott stumbled in front of the girl from the side and almost ended up falling into the booth. Out of the corner of his eye Stiles could see Erica giving them a thumbs-up and another evil grin.

 

"What are you doing here?" he whisper-hissed in Scott's direction, not taking his eyes off the plotting Catwoman in the corner. 

 

"Saving your face, if you want to believe Erica," Scott whispered back, leaning forward and stuffing a dollar bill into the tin next to Stiles.

 

"And she couldn't have done that herself?"

 

Scott shrugged. "She meant it would attract more people if it'd be us kissing."

 

"Guess my business could use a bit of a jump start," Stiles said, rolling his eyes and leaning the rest of the way into Scott's space. He made a bit more of a show out of it than under the mistletoe at Derek's – after all, this was business. Their mouths stayed attached to each other for the whole minute and there was head-tilting for angle changes and actual movement and even a bit of vengeful lip sucking. Scott might not have planned this but that didn't mean he had to go and eat what smelled like several cloves of garlic and then breathe right in Stiles' face the second his own shift was over.

 

Stiles turned to grin at Erica as soon as the minute was up and she playfully fanned herself, shit-eating grin still in place. Scott laughed at them both and rolled his eyes, giving Stiles a quick bro-fist before sauntering off to what Stiles assumed was Allison's current location. When Stiles returned his attention to the line in front of the booth it was suddenly much longer than he remembered it and the girl Scott had practically pushed out of the way when Erica had shoved him looked anything but indecisive now. 

 

Stiles smiled at her and she smiled back, a determined look in her eyes as she took the last step that was separating her from the booth and pulled Stiles to her by his collar, pressing their lips together almost painfully as she stuffed a dollar bill into the tin without looking. She nodded briskly to someone behind her when she pulled back and before he knew it Stiles was working almost nonstop until his shift was over, faces almost blurring into each other until he couldn't have said who all he'd kissed that day if questioned at gun point.

 

When he left school with Scott that afternoon, Erica was giving them a predatory look from where she was lurking in the parking lot, probably waiting for Boyd. Derek definitely taught his betas well in that regard, she looked like Beacon Hill's next werewolf serial killer. And just as with every time Derek had lurked around and stared at them, a feeling of intense unease settled over Stiles. Werewolves lurking in Beacon High's parking lot never resulted in anything good and he wasn't sure if he preferred whatever Erica's nefarious plans might be over the newest supernatural threat.

 

Erica just waved at them with an unnaturally sweet smile that made even oblivious Scott a little squeamish and Stiles didn't let her out of his sight until he'd pulled out of the lot. He had the uncomfortable premonition that whatever she was plotting involved Scott and him making out yet again. Not that that was the most awful thing she could have come up with but kissing his best friend twice in one month had been more than enough, if you asked Stiles. Which Erica of course didn't. Seriously, what was his life?

 

 

 

**IV.**

 

Stiles really shouldn't have expected anything else from the moment he and Scott had walked under that damned piece of mistletoe only to be met with Erica's biggest smirk. And yet he'd still somehow managed to push the looming dread of Erica's predatory looks from his thoughts until he'd lulled himself into a false sense of security and was actually surprised when she proposed playing Truth or Dare at the next pack meeting, producing specifically werewolf-spiked eggnog from God only knew where and somehow talking everyone into doing it 'for the Christmas spirit', even Derek. Thankfully, Peter had taken his out earlier that evening. 

 

By the time Erica had somehow managed to catch Scott on a dare, both he and Stiles were too drunk to care or to have expected it. 

 

"I dare you to make out with Stiles, Scottie boy. And not some tame mistletoe peck or harmless kissing booth kiss. I want to see tongues involved." Her eyes were dark and her smirk still dirty. Most of the remaining pack looked intrigued and Stiles faintly asked himself in some back corner of his mind why he was friends with so many perverts. 'Takes one to know one' was his best guess.

 

Scott just slurred "Fine" and dragged Stiles' face to his own with a burning hot hand on his neck – who knew werewolves heated up that much when drunk? Stiles didn't waste any time, opening his mouth the moment their lips touched and before he knew it he had Scott's equally scalding tongue in his mouth and yep, Allison had definitely taught him a thing or two. Scott was licking behind his teeth and flicking his tongue at the roof of his mouth and while it was still fucking weird it also felt a million times better than when they'd tried this almost five years ago.

 

Stiles giggled and swayed a little in place when they finally parted with a wet smacking noise that would have been embarrassing if they'd been less drunk. "Dude, much better than when we were thirteen. Kudos to you, Allison, you taught him well!" He gave Allison a thumbs-up and she collapsed laughing against Scott. 

 

"Is it horrible that I'm a little turned on right now?" Isaac asked, not taking his eyes off of Scott. 

 

"Well, that would make pretty much all of us very horrible," Lydia said, giggling into her cup of standard eggnog. Jackson laughed into her shoulder and looked about to add something – probably about his theory that Scott and Stiles were actually having sex behind everyone's back – but was cut off before the first word could leave his mouth by Derek's Alpha Growl (patent still pending). His eyes were glowing red and his wolfy teeth were out when Stiles looked over and everyone, even the humans, sobered up a little at the change in atmosphere.

 

"Can we move on now," Derek grumbled, red receding from his eyes as everyone continued to stare at him. He actually looked a little sheepish, and there was definitely some nervous shifting going on when he caught Erica's gaze.

 

"Of course, oh Almighty Alpha," she said in that fake cheerful-sweet tone and Derek actually physically flinched. Everyone else was too drunk to pay much attention to anything, but Stiles found his eyes glued to Derek as the game went on. Erica was onto something and Stiles wanted to know what. If only so he could stay very far out of the way between her and whatever she wanted.

 

Though he couldn't deny that there might be another, less self-preserving reason as he caught Derek staring back at him more and more frequently over the course of the night. Not that Stiles had much of a working instinct of self-preservation to begin with. 

 

Something was up here that had to do with either him and/or Scott and if there was one thing Stiles was unbeatable at it was figuring shit out whether the people involved wanted him to or not. He'd get right on this one when he'd be less shitfaced. It came right after 'dying of mortification when you remember that way too truthful and detailed answer about fourth grade mishaps in the morning' on his to-do-once-you're-sober-again list.

 

 

 

**V.**

 

"You've got to be kidding me. No, really, how is this even possible." Stiles shook his head as he looked down on Scott's motionless body. He looked as if he were peacefully asleep – which, according to Deaton, he was. Only that he wouldn't wake up on his own anytime soon because fairies were evil little shits, apparently, and Stiles should never have let Scott go negotiate with _anything_ with just Isaac at his side. 

 

"Is it really that much harder to believe than that werewolves exist?" Deaton asked in that calm tone that was completely inappropriate when Stiles' best friend was currently lying unconscious in some sort of Sleeping Beauty-style coma right between them. Because he'd been cursed by a crazy evil fairy who'd been offended by them assuming she might be evil. Talk about irony.

 

"Werewolves are more X-Men gene mutation stuff while an evil fairy cursing someone to sleep until true love's kiss wakes him is a little too close to Disney and fairy tale territory, if you ask me." Stiles gestures wildly to get his point across, almost hitting Isaac hovering next to him over Scott's unresponsive form in the face. 

 

"It's not true love's kiss," Isaac said, eyes still not moving away from Scott. "She said 'an act of true love'."

 

"As if that makes that much of a difference." Stiles rolled his eyes but Deaton seemed actually intrigued, giving Isaac a contemplative look. 

 

"It does, actually. If she had said true love's kiss we would have to wait until Allison comes back from her vacation, and even then we couldn't be completely sure it would work. If it takes just an act of true love..." He tapered off but Stiles could fill in the rest.

 

"Wouldn't that be making it a little too easy?" he asked, giving Deaton a skeptical look. 

 

"She seemed to want to prove to you that she is not actually a danger. Maybe the curse was just a warning to stay away from her and leave her alone, nothing she wanted to last."

 

"Unfortunate choice of curse, in that case," Stiles muttered to himself. "And what do we do now? What would count as an 'act of true love'?"

 

"Well, I'd guess we'll need some form of true love and somehow put it into action," Isaac said, sarcastically enough that Stiles was torn between wanting to pat him on the back in pride and wanting to slap him in his stupid, sassy face. Huh. Guess that was what people felt toward him most of the time. With the exception of the surge of pride, maybe.

 

"Oh really, Mr. Genius. You don't say." Isaac finally pulled his eyes away from Scott to glare at Stiles. Deaton interrupted their pissed-off staring match by theatrically clearing his throat. 

 

"I would suggest a kiss. Even if it doesn't have to be romantic love that will wake him up, it seems like a safe option, considering what fairy tale probably inspired the curse."

 

"And I guess a kiss could be interpreted as an act of love no matter what kind of love you're looking at," Stiles said with a sigh. "Okay, fine. The universe definitely has it out for me this month. Isaac, time to step back."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"Just do it."

 

Reluctantly, Isaac stepped back from where he'd been practically looming over Scott's face and Stiles leaned down, pressing his lips to Scott's unresponsive ones and trying to make himself believe with every fiber of his being that this would be enough to lift the curse. He stayed right where he was until he could feel Scott's gasping inhale against his mouth, quickly pulling away when he felt the fangs coming out as Scott wolfed himself back into the land of the conscious and uncursed.

 

"What happened?" he asked into the room, still trying to catch his breath, eyes flitting around.

 

"Apparently, the fairy lady wanted to show you that she's not evil but that you really shouldn't mess with her by cursing you with some Sleeping Beauty thing." Stiles rolled his eyes. It was already starting to sound much funnier now that Scott wasn't out on the examination table looking like the peaceful version of one of the many bodies meeting a supernatural end that tended to somehow find their way into Deaton's clinic. 

 

Scott's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before something like panic crept into his expression. "Wait, does that mean you're actually my one true love or something? Because, dude, you're my best friend and all and I love you but not like that and I know we've been forced to kiss a lot this month but I'm so not ready to marry you or have sex with you or-"

 

At this point, Stiles decided that the wisest course of action would be to shut Scott up with a hand over his mouth, for both their sakes. "Calm down, Scottie. It wasn't about _the_ one true love or anything and we're definitely not going to marry _or_ have sex. Dude, just no. We just needed an act of _some_ kind of true love and Deaton figured a kiss would be our safest bet. You're not a Disney princess, man, you've been saved by true bromance."

 

Stiles didn't pull his hand away until Scott nodded, only to reveal a huge grin. "That's actually kind of cool."

 

"Right? Knew you'd get it." Stiles laughed and held out his fist for Scott to bump. Deaton was shaking his head next to them, but it looked about as fond as Deaton ever got so Stiles didn't worry about it. Isaac pouted in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

"Aww, don't worry, Isaac, buddy, I'm sure you'll find your one true bromance one day, too," Stiles said with a smirk. He even sort of meant it, even though Isaac could be a huge jerk. That was territory Stiles was all too familiar with, after all.

 

Isaac rolled his eyes and looked like he was contemplating sticking his tongue out. "I'm not going to start making out with Derek or Boyd, though." 

 

"Not even Scott here?" 

 

Stiles shit-eating grin was still in place even as Isaac jumped at him, growling playfully and completely ignoring Deaton's loud protests against werewolf wrestling in his clinic, especially next to delicate, expensive objects. As playful as the remark had been, Stiles really wouldn't mind someone else taking over Scott-kissing-duty for him, at least for a while. At this rate, he'd never get to kiss anyone else because he'd be too busy satisfying Erica's voyeuristic needs or saving his best friend from fairy tale curses. 

 

 

**+1**

 

Given that lately, his life looked a lot like a collection of kissing scenario tropes that sadly only ever seemed to involve his best friend – whom he really didn't want to have to kiss in any kind of circumstance ever again at this point, thank you very much – Stiles sort of expected to end up under another branch of mistletoe before the year was over. Knowing his luck, he'd probably have to smooch Scott point midnight on New Year's Eve to stop the apocalypse or something equally ridiculous. And as much as he'd complained that he was getting no action, Stiles was really, really sick and tired of making out with Scott. This was not what he'd been asking for with his complaints. Whatever greater power was suddenly taking those into consideration had seriously misunderstood Stiles' meaning and was definitely willfully ignoring the millions of daydreams/masturbatory fantasies that involved a certain other werewolf and a bit of good old mouth-to-mouth. In the sexy way, not the 'someone's about to die' way. Been there, done that. Not sexy at all.

 

So Stiles didn't hold much hope of getting kissed by anyone he wanted to anytime soon, which wasn't much different from his usual state of being apart from maybe the newly acquired constant dread that he'd have to stick his tongue down Scott's throat in a room full of people _yet again_. What was next, a public round of Seven Minutes in Heaven with his dad in the audience? Wait, no. Scratch that. Mission abort. That thought seriously needed to be unthought sometime soon because Stiles did _not_ want to be stuck with that particular mental image. If there was anyone he needed to be watching Scott and him forcefully getting their kissing mack on even less than Derek, it was his dad. He'd rather have _Scott's_ dad watching them. At least he didn't give a flying fuck what that douchebag would think about it. Also, neither of them had to live with him, thankfully.

 

Those being his – even for his standards low – expectations it was definitely a pleasant surprise when the next time he entered Derek's house for a pack meeting, the dreaded piece of plant was gone from the doorway. The way Erica was trying to glare holes into Derek from her front row seat was much less surprising in contrast. Stiles shot him a thankful grin when she wasn't looking and he might have been hallucinating for a second, but he was relatively sure that Derek had grinned back. And not in his creepy-though-hot fake grin style. Not even sarcastically. It looked almost like a 'pleased to see you happy' inside joke grin and hell if he'd ever thought he'd get one of those out of Derek Hale one day.

 

Since the Big Bad of the Month (patent unofficially granted because Stiles just _knew_ everyone used it behind his back) had yet to make an appearance, there wasn't really anything serious to discuss and it took the pack about ten minutes to, for once, unanimously agree to baking cookies instead. Another thirty minutes later, they were all gathered in the kitchen, with Jackson of course just lounging in a chair and. Lydia commandeering everyone else around from a distance deemed safe for her designer clothes. Isaac and Scott were just as little help, playing with the flour and eating all the cookie dough and generally creating a huge mess.

 

The only actually productive pack members, apart from Stiles, were Allison, who was dutifully cutting out little stars with her tongue between her teeth and dimples all out, and Boyd and Erica, who were having a bet going on who could more violently knead the dough without destroying the bowl from the looks of it.

 

And then there was Derek, supervising quietly from the one dark corner he'd been able to find in the otherwise brightly lit room. That was some serious lurking talent right there – and Stiles wasn't having any of that today. It was the 22nd, and no one got to train their creeper skills this close to Christmas, not under his watch. Especially not when they were currently all pack-bonding over cookies.

 

"Derek, get out of your shady corner and do something useful for once!" He waved a rolling pin at him and gestured vividly to the clumps of dough on the counter in front of him. For a second, Derek didn't move a muscle and Stiles thought he'd actually just ignore him as a matter of principle and because he was probably allergic to leisurely pastimes such as baking.

 

Then he took Stiles by surprise by actually coming out of his corner without further arguing, merely grumbling a little in a way that seemed more like token protest than anything else. He eyed the rolling pin warily before taking it out of Stiles' hands.

 

"I'm not wearing an apron," he said, one eyebrow raised and looking at Stiles as if expecting him to insist. Stiles had to admit that it was indeed a hilarious mental image and why didn't he think of it first?

 

"Too bad, the pink frills would have highlighted your bulging biceps so well," Stiles deadpanned, trying not to actually look at said bulging muscles because he didn't need the bunch of perverted werewolves around him to pay even closer attention to his rampaging hormones. He was aiming for _one_ afternoon of harmless, mostly innuendo-free cookie baking, that should be doable, right?

 

Rolling his eyes, Derek got to work without another word of protest and Stiles noticed quickly that he was actually quite proficient with a rolling pin. Derek Hale a baker, who would have thought?

 

"My mum taught me," Derek said casually to the dough he was rolling out, as if Stiles' constant curious looks actually counted as a legit, worded question. Baking was one thing, but deliberately offering up personal, non-tragic information involving his seriously traumatizing past? Stiles was half convinced he was dealing with an impostor.

 

"Mine, too," he said, not lifting his eyes from the reindeer-shaped cookies he was busy cutting out. He didn't sound choked at all and whoever claimed differently was a lying liar (he was mentally side-eying Jackson). Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles thought he'd seen an actual, genuine smile on Derek's face for a moment.

 

They didn't say anything else for the rest of their shared work on the counter but it wasn't an awkward kind of silence. It was almost companionable, really – Stiles would know, he was king of all things awkward, after all, he could tell the difference. He didn't even particularly feel like denying he could feel something warm and content settle in his chest when he thought about working on making cookies in companionable silence with Derek of all people.

 

Naturally, once they'd managed to get a few batches in the oven without any accidents or the horde of wolves eating them all raw first, the time it took the cookies to actually bake was enough for everything to descend into pure chaos. Someone had dug out a game of Monopoly – he thought it might have been Boyd – and all hell had already broken loose even though anyone had yet to build a hotel. Stiles was convinced Jackson was somehow cheating the bank without anyone noticing, despite their wolfy senses – he'd been an actual, verified lizard for a while there, so how far off could Stiles really be? Erica and Boyd were trading streets back and forth like nobody's business and, most cruelly, a lot of them matched up.

 

As usual, Stiles had the worst luck with a dice and he was probably going to be bankrupt before the end of the round. Derek, on the other hand, was most ironically acing the game so far, taking 'lucky in cards, unlucky in love' to new levels that were more like 'lucky in board games, unlucky in life'. Lydia had easily convinced Scott to make the worst street deals in the history of Monopoly – in her favor, of course – and Isaac was still getting Allison to subtly whisper the rules to him because apparently, though not really surprising, board game evenings hadn't really been a biggie in the Lahey household.

 

True to his own prediction, Stiles was miserably out of money and just piling up debts before he'd even arrived in the last quarter of the board and thus put himself on cookie checking duty. Not that he trusted half of the people currently sitting around the board with that, anyway. It had the added bonus of being a great way of escaping Erica's smug, gloating grin at having robbed him off his last, pathetically tiny pile of bills.

 

Once he had the cookies out – they'd actually ended up surprisingly decent, considering who all had 'helped' making them – he automatically started parting them into two piles. One large, mixed heap for the hungry teenaged wolf mob and a smaller one that was basically nothing but pecan nut cookies. There were only two people in their little pack who thought pecan nuts were awesome instead of disgusting, incidentally the same two that wouldn't get involved in the huge wrestling match over who got how many cookies and what flavors (if you didn't count Lydia, which Stiles didn't because she just got Jackson to battle it out for both of them). One because he was a puny human without a wolf or hunter for a better half and the other because it didn't really seem fair for the Alpha to battle out cookie rights with his betas.

 

Once upon a time it would have baffled Stiles to find that he and Derek shared a taste in cookies – in anything really. Now it was just a fact that was stored at the back of his mind, along with how Scott would probably kill for peanut butter or that Lydia couldn't resist anything with coconut in it, no matter how much she denied it.

 

He'd be much harder pressed to remember anyone else's preferences, but that was also a thing Stiles had begun to come to terms with over the last few months. That Derek was up there with Lydia and Scott and even his _dad_ , for God's sake, when it came to the list of people Stiles cared about most. That he just noticed that kind of thing about Derek without even making a conscious effort and that he found himself making all kinds of probably superfluous tiny gestures based on it. Like buying a lot of pecan nuts even though no one else was going to eat those, or putting an extra bag of Derek's favorite chips flavor in the cart whenever they were shopping for snacks because Isaac liked them too and Derek always let him have the whole bag because how could you deny Isaac his chips? It was kind of ridiculous and Derek would probably never know – which was most likely for the best – but it felt a lot more natural than buying Lydia a flat screen TV she definitely didn't need.

 

Chuckling a little to himself over how silly and smitten he was being – another one of his specialties – Stiles grabbed the bowls and headed out, ready to brave the onslaught. All of the wolves, except for Boyd who would probably stay cool enough to freeze lava if anyone ever tried to throw him into a volcano, immediately perked up when Stiles entered the room accompanied by a wave of fresh cookie scent. Stiles quickly tossed the bowl in Scott's direction and dove out of the way of the tiny war starting up around it. Laughing at Jackson getting an elbow to the face, he dropped down next to Derek and offered him their own little bowl without even looking away from the chaos unfolding before him. There was movement at the edge of his vision and by the time the warm press of soft lips to his cheek had registered, every last person in the room, including Stiles and Derek, had frozen mid-motion, most of them staring at where Derek was still hovering right next to Stiles' face, looking like such a for all intents and purposes harmless gesture of affection had actually managed to fry his brain.

 

Telling himself to ignore everyone's inquisitive stares and trying to remember how to breathe, Stiles turned his head around, painfully slowly, to meet Derek's gaze. Derek looked panicked and about half a second away from running for his life, or at least the remnants of his dignity. Like he was about to say sorry. To Stiles' great relief, though, he didn't look like he _regretted_ it. So Stiles decided to generously save him the apology – not that he wanted one for a simple, affectionate kiss on the cheek he'd been waiting for what felt like forever – and also make his own feelings very clear in a way that did not involve words he was sure he currently couldn't form. He just leaned in, stopping only a hair's breadth from Derek's lips to give him the chance to pull back, to just not do this, and between one shallow, rapid breath and the next – holy hell they were so close they were practically breathing each other's air and this probably shouldn't feel like a revelation but it did – that pair of warm, soft lips was suddenly moving against his own.

 

He sucked in a desperate lungful of oxygen before kissing back enthusiastically, noting in the far back of his mind that his grip on the bowl between them was loosening. It didn't feel particularly relevant just then, considering that he was currently _kissing Derek freaking Hale and it was the best thing he'd ever done_. Just when the bowl was about to slip out of his hand, one of Derek's broad, warm ones came out of nowhere to keep it steady with him. The other sneaked up to cup Stiles' cheek as if he were something precious, an incredibly warm thumb coming to rest on his cheekbone as Derek gently tilted Stiles' head for a better angle.

 

Stiles let out a truly embarrassing noise he didn't really care about just then and playfully nipped at Derek's bottom lip in return. The resulting growl sent a heady mixture of triumph and arousal through him and that would probably have been the point where he'd literally have climbed Derek like a tree if it hadn't been for all the wolf-whistles and cheering piercing through his haze of affection and lust and _oh god yes fucking finally_.

 

"You guys are the worst," he announced breathily to the room in general as they pulled apart, eyes not leaving Derek's for a second. Their faces were still so close, if he'd just lean half an inch closer they could-

 

"Get a room," Jackson said with cheerful fake disgust, throwing a Monopoly hotel at Stiles' head and effectively ruining what was left of the moment. Derek immediately turned on him, eyes red and teeth out and Stiles was kind of torn between being ridiculously turned on by Derek wolfing out so close up and without any imminent danger in sight – and now there was a kink to hopefully be explored at a later point – and being kind of flattered and ridiculously fond of his overreaction. Not that Stiles wanted to be seen as a damsel in distress and have Derek being overprotective of him all the time and that was definitely something they'd have to talk about if this wasn't just some kind of holiday cheer-induced once-in-a-life-time thing, which he honestly didn't think it was. For now, he decided to let it go.

 

"Calm down, wolfie," he said with a laugh, putting a placating hand on Derek's arm and almost choking on air when Derek immediately fell back and, well, dewolfified. "Woah. I could get used to that." Derek glowered at him but it was kind of less effective now that Stiles knew for sure that Derek wanted to smooch him and actually listened to him like a good alpha wolf when he let his guard down. "It's okay, I'm not going to try to teach you tricks. You're probably too old for that, anyway." Derek rolled his eyes so hard Stiles felt sympathy pains behind his temples just watching, but he still leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles' lips, so there had to be some fondness in that eyeroll, right?

 

The rest of the cookie battle went surprisingly peaceful and apart from an embarrassing round of applause and a few choruses of 'Finally!', no one made a big deal out of Stiles and Derek spontaneously starting to get kissy-feely in their midst, so Stiles shrugged it off as well. They continued their game of Monopoly, the only change being the addition of cookies and Stiles practically being glued to Derek's side and shoulder. They'd have to have a probably lengthy, very emotional conversation about this once everyone else would be herded off to bed, but for once Stiles found himself not dreading a feelings talk. He was pretty positive this one would turn out in his favor, after all. Much as he was opposed to having to kiss Scott ever again, he definitely wouldn't mind if he'd be cursed to kiss Derek all the time. Maybe now the spell was broken.

 

"I won't comment on your love life for a whole week if you kiss Scott again to see if Derek will go all Alpha on us."

 

Well, Erica did run a hard bargain here. Guess the Sleeping Beauty thing hadn't been the last time he'd get up close and personal with his best friend.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope this was good for a laugh or two! Whether or not Derek wolfed out may be your guess ;) Thanks for reading and I'll probably be back with fluff-crack-I don't even know at some point.


End file.
